Changes
by pisces317
Summary: What changes take place in Wilson's life after he accidentally steps into a bear trap? Re-telling of Season 6's "Wilson". Eventual H/W slash but not immediate. Wilson whump incl.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Changes

**Author: **Megan M.

**Rating: **PG-13 for semi-graphic detail

**Summary: **Changes happen in Wilson's life after accidentally stepping into a bear trap.

**Spoilers: **None, really.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, just borrowing.

**Author's Note(s): **Retelling of Season 6's "Wilson". I got the idea from a MacGyver episode where he stepped into a bear/wolf trap and wondered "what if that had happened in "Wilson"? So here it is.

* * *

><p><strong>Part One<strong>

Wilson whirled angrily on his friend and previous cancer patient, Tucker. "What the hell?" he asked, his voice gravelly with annoyance.

They were out on their annual hunting trip and had just finished stringing up and shooting a chemo bag. Wilson had walked on ahead with the turkey caller when he heard a gunshot and felt a whizzing pass his head.

Tucker was on the ground, gun next to him, with his arm spasming uncontrollably. Wilson immediately ran to the other man, not looking where he was going. He had just reached Tucker when he finished his stride and a loud, metal _SNAP _was heard, echoing through the forest.

Blinding, excruciating pain was the immediately next thing Wilson was aware of. Fiery tendrils of agony snaked through his left leg, burning so deep for a moment Wilson swore his bones were charred and would be nothing but ash before long.

He cried out, loudly, in agony, gripping his leg, clenching the thigh because any more movement renewed the excruciating, tearing pain.

"Jim," Wilson heard Tucker call, "what's going on? What happened?"

After House's conversation with him this morning Wilson was almost glad to hear the concern in the man's baritone voice. It was at this question that Wilson realized, he didn't actually know what had happened.

Hesitantly he looked down at his foot. His expression turned from wary to horrified when he saw that he'd stepped into a bear trap. "Tucker," he replied, his voice strained with pain and control.

He proceeded to pull out his cell phone, doing his best to refrain from moving his trapped leg. With trembling fingers, Wilson dialed 911.

After he relayed his information to the person on the other end, Wilson kept the phone open but set it on the ground and proceeded to try to crawl towards his friend who wasn't more than a couple feet away.

A nearby chain rattled and the trap pulled on Wilson's leg, tearing flesh and muscle as it moved. Wilson roared in pain, holding furiously to his leg.

Unnerved and worried by the amount of pain his friend was in, Tucker did his best to move toward the trapped man. "Jim, what's wrong?" he asked.

Wilson was in too much pain to do more than whimper and try to keep his breathing even but the closer he got, the easier it was for Tucker to see what was wrong. "Christ," he breathed softly.

"Hang on Jim," he called hoping that his voice brought some form of comfort to the pained man. In the distance the whir of a helicopter could be heard, "help's coming, just hang in there."

* * *

><p>"-does not excuse you from being in embarrassed by what I'm about to say,"<p>

Cuddy walked in on the end of House's statement to his patient. The man lay on the table, groaning in agony and holding his stomach. "House," she called hoping her voice was louder than the groaning, this could not wait.

"Busy," House called back, annoyed that he'd been interrupted.

"Now," Cuddy commanded sternly, turning the heads of all in the room. There was complete silence for a few seconds as the groaning man grew quiet upon noticing her presence.

House gave a long suffering sigh and an eye roll then exited the room, leaving his staff looking at him in confusion. "What?" he asked, "you ruined a perfectly funny moment."

Blue-grey eyes turned hard as steel, "Well I'm sorry for interrupting you humiliating yet another person but I thought that you'd want to know that Wilson and his friend Tucker were being brought in via medi-vac."

For a moment House thought the floor had fell out from under him as the hallway began to spin. "What happened?"

"They aren't totally sure what happened with Tucker-"

"I don't care about Self-Important Jerk. Tell me what happened to Wilson." House snapped, his self control all but disappeared.

"The EMT's think that he had been running to help Tucker when his foot got stuck in a bear trap." Cuddy announced, her tone even despite the raging emotions running through her like the rapids.

House winced. If it had been a wolf trap, Wilson would have been relatively okay. Sure he would have been in pain but the damage would have been less since the spears weren't as big and his boots would have reduced much of the bite.

A bear trap on the other hand was meant for a much larger animal and therefore the spikes went in deeper and depending on the maker, may be barbed.

"How long til he arrives?" House asked gravely.

"They'll be here in the next five minutes," she whispered.

House turned on his heel and waited in the Emergency Room where Wilson would be immediately brought; he couldn't make it up the stairs that were required for helicopter arrival.

Several minutes later, chaos in the ER announced the arrival of Wilson and his "friend". SIJ was the first to get off helicopter and House ignored him, his eyes searching for one and only one person.

In a quick flash of camouflage and chestnut hair, House saw Wilson pass him via gurney and he followed quickly as he could.

Strong hands held him back from entering the examination area that Wilson had been wheeled to but just as he was about to snarl at the person to let him go, his mind registered that he was still close enough to see what was going on.

Blonde hair crossed past his vision briefly before it walked into the area, expertly barking out orders in a very familiar Australian accent. Somewhere in the back of his mind, House registered that it was Chase but his focus was currently on the prone figure on the bed.

The trap, boot and sock had been stripped and the pants had been split up the side revealing a mangled leg full of exposed bone, ligaments and muscle in one bloody mass.

For a second House thought he might vomit but he stoically held it back. He'd seen much worse than this in his lifetime but this wasn't just anybody – this was Wilson. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to Wilson, they just weren't!

His mind raged at fate before turning to someone he could actually take his anger out on – Self Important Jerk.

With the speed not often attributed to a crippled, House spun on his heel and stormed furiously towards SIJ's bedside.

"House, no!" A deep bass voice called while strong, chocolate hands restrained him. Foreman was deceptively strong and held a snarling House against his chest to prevent the diagnostician from committing murder in the Emergency Room. "This won't help Wilson," he reasoned into the scruffy doctor's ear.

"House," a strained voice called loudly, pain filling it and breaking his heart. House stopped fighting Foreman, broke free and walked hastily to the one voice that could command him to do anything right now.

"Easy," he soothed, grabbing Wilson's hand and brushing strands of hair off his wrinkled forehead, "Chase will get you taken care of."

Tears streaked down Wilson's cheek and the sheer agony in those lovely chocolate brown eyes threatened to be House's undoing. "Hurtss," Wilson cried through clenched teeth.

"I know it does. How about some more pain meds huh? I've got some Ibuprofen handy." House joked, wishing his friend didn't have to try so hard not to scream in agony.

A strangled laugh escaped Wilson's lips but he made no answer. House looked to Chase, pleading the intensivist to help him.

Chase stood still for a second, shocked by just how much House looked like he could cry, before he nodded silently and grabbed another syringe of morphine. Like House, he hated to see the oncologist in so much pain and even though he'd almost maxed out on the amount of morphine that was safe to give one man, he administered more without hesitation. He knew he was pushing the limits but he also knew Wilson was strong and could take it.

The deep lines of pain on Wilson's face relaxed exponentially but they were still there. Wilson opened his eyes to thank House, his eyes cloudy with pain and drugs.

"Sleep Wilson," House interrupted, "I'll take care of you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

"House?" Cuddy's voice called from the entry of the observation room.

House stood keeping his attention on the surgeons working ardently to repair Wilson's leg. Full recovery wasn't likely with the damage that had been sustained, it had been too severe.

"I have a case," she said again, sounding hopeful.

"Give it to Foreman." House answered, his gaze not leaving the figure in the operating room.

"This patient specifically requested you. He said his friend told him you were the best." Cuddy informed him evenly. Despite not wanting to, her eyes wandered down to focus on the same sight as House. She wanted nothing more than to ask how Wilson was doing but she knew it was pointless right now.

She stepped further into the room, slipping the file into his numb hands.

House lifted the file to his vision then promptly tossed it back at her. "I am NOT treating Self Important Jerk," he announced, spitting the name with as much venom as he could manage.

"House, it's your job," Cuddy said.

"Don't care. I'm taking a vacation." House replied.

"No you're not," She announced resignedly, "you are going to do your job and take this case. I'll leave it with Foreman."

"Good, keep me out of it."

"House, I know you're worried about Wilson and that you're mad at Tucker but the fact of the matter is, he is Wilson's friend and he would want you to treat him."

"I'm going to be busy. See my friend got his leg stuck in a bear trap and is now having surgery. He's going to need my help." House sniped pointing towards Wilson's prone body.

"Wilson will be in surgery for another four hours and in the hospital for another week after that. Plenty of time for you to treat Tucker." Cuddy reasoned.

House stepped away from the window, his arms across his chest and a maliciously curious look in his eyes. "You know, I never knew how little you actually cared about Wilson until now. You really do only care about your hospital."

Fury rose in Cuddy's eyes, melting the steel in them to boiling. "I care about Wilson just as much as you do but sitting here doing nothing while you watch the surgeons like a hawk isn't doing any one any good. Wilson's friend needs you and right now, Wilson doesn't need any one except those surgeons."

She threw the file back at him, hitting him in the face with it. "Take the case." With that, she walked out of the room, the angry pattern her heels made on the tiled floor following her.

* * *

><p>House lifted the file once again, his blue eyes lightly perusing the file. He sat in Wilson's hospital room, back logged patient files on a side table and glasses on reading through them. He was waiting for his team to come back and tell him that he was right, it's cancer.<p>

The man in the bed beside him lay still, the anesthesia not having worn off yet, with his heavily injured leg laying supported by several pillows.

The surgeons had set the extreme break and repaired as much of the muscle, ligament and tendon damage as they could. The rest was up to Wilson's body and physical therapy.

Glass doors slid open revealing Chase, Thirteen and Taub. "It's not cancer," Taub announced upon entering, "everything's normal."

"It's cancer, you just didn't find it." House retorted, his mind quickly running through the possibilities. "Did you MRI his brain?"

"Yeah, then we MRI'd another piece of random anatomy," Taub answered sarcastically.

"Go do it," House commanded, barely appreciating the sarcasm.

Taub spun on his heel to do as he was told, Thirteen following. Only Chase remained behind. "How's he doing?"

A low moan escaped through barely parted lips drawing attention to the man in the bed.

"I think we're about to find out," House answered getting up and limping over to the bed. "Wilson?"

"Mph," Wilson replied groggily.

"Come on sleeping beauty, open your eyes." House urged gently.

"H-house?"

"Yep that's me," House said rather loudly.

"Not so loud," Wilson moaned, bring his hand to his head.

"How are you feeling?" Chase asked softly.

"Okay, tired." Wilson answered, trying to shake the cobwebs from his mind. Pain, less intense than before he went under, spiked in his leg making him hiss and grimace. "Ow," he groaned before he could stop him.

"How bad?" House asked, knowing full well that it was the leg that was hurting.

"I'll live," Wilson replied, giving another grimace.

"I already knew that, I asked how bad. Give me a number."

"Uh," the pain spiked again, burrowing itself inside the bone, "9, maybe 10."

"Idiot," House grumbled, more than a little unhappy that his friend was in that much pain. He activated a dose of pain meds and waited for it to take effect.

"Well, it's not as bad as you. Weren't you screaming from the pain after your surgery?" Wilson commented, knowing that it wasn't really a good defense.

Chase raised an eyebrow but kept his comments to himself. "I'll go check on Taub and Thirteen." He gave Wilson's hand a pat before he left.

"I had half the muscle in my leg taken out," House defended annoyed, "You have only had a quarter, along with a little reconstruction."

Wilson grimaced but whether it was from residual pain or the sound of what was left, House wasn't sure. "How bad?" he asked.

"You'll be fine after some physical therapy," House answered, not wanting to give his friend the whole truth right now.

"House,"

It made him almost ashamed at how well that tone worked on him. "You won't be as bad as me,"

"But I'll be close."

"Probably." Wilson's eyelids began to droop. "Get some rest, we'll talk more after a nap." House relaxed into the chair, slouching and pretending to nap.

Wilson was asleep long before House had even settled down.

* * *

><p>Soft snoring reached Wilson's ears upon waking. He turned his head to find House slouching in the armchair, head lolled to the side and mouth hanging open. A file lay sprawled upon his chest, his hand lightly holding it there and his glasses were slowly making their way down the older man's nose.<p>

The glass doors to his room slid open, admitting Cuddy. The noise hadn't even woken the diagnostician.

"Hey," she greeted quietly, "how are you feeling?"

"Okay," Wilson responded. He could tell that the pain meds were slowly starting to wear off but the only person he would, hesitantly, admit that to was currently asleep in an ugly olive green armchair, snoring. "How's Tucker?"

Reluctantly Cuddy stepped further into the room. "Not well. They discovered ALL in his brain. They gave him a dose of chemo but it didn't work. He demanded another dose, even against House's advisement. It destroyed his liver."

Wilson sat solemnly on the bed, the pain beginning to reach unbearable.

"He," Cuddy hesitated, "he wants to see you."

"Bring him in." A brief grimace crossed his face as his leg began to protest the lack of drugs.

"Are you okay? Do you want me to give you another dose?" Cuddy asked, picking up on the grimace.

"No, thanks, I'll be okay. Is Tucker on the way?" He was getting tired the more he was awake and didn't know how much longer he'd be able to stay awake.

She nodded sadly, "I'll bring him in." In no time Cuddy returned pushing Tucker's wheelchair. He was jaundiced because of the liver failure and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Hey," Wilson greeted stiffly. He was doing his best not to move any part of his lower body but he felt the need to shift himself up.

"Jim," Tucker greeted tiredly, "I have a favor to ask." Wilson sat patiently wondering what the favor would be. "The doctors say that I need a new liver but they can't get one to me fast enough. My family isn't my blood type but you are."

Wilson sat shocked into dumbness. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You," he began trying to hide the incredulity in his voice but allowing the pure exhaustion he felt to creep in, "you want me to donate a part of my liver to you?"

"Yes," Tucker said, not even blinking.

"Absolutely not," Cuddy said before Wilson could answer. She didn't know whether or not Wilson would have agreed but medically, it couldn't be done since Wilson had just barely begun to recover from a major surgery himself.

"Why not?" Tucker challenged angrily, showing his true colors to Wilson for the first time.

"Because he just got out from major surgery less than 48 hours ago idiot!" House's voice snapped furiously, surprising all in the room. He'd actually been awake since Cuddy had entered but he didn't want any of them knowing that.

Wilson jumped at House's voice not having been aware that his friend was awake. It jarred his broken leg and tugged at the muscles and ligaments that hadn't even begun to heal, making him hiss loudly and groan deep in his throat.

House was immediately at his side administering his next does of pain meds. "Sorry," he apologized knowing it was because he'd scared the younger doctor that he was hurting worse.

"But that was just for his leg-"

"Which was damaged beyond repair because he was trying to help your ungrateful ass." House growled, his eyes shooting ice at the man in the wheelchair. He placed his body in front of Wilson protectively and Cuddy joined him.

"You need to leave," Cuddy hissed, when she saw that he was about to try to argue some more. She angrily clicked her way behind the chair and pushed him back to his own room, shooting both House and Wilson an extremely apologetic glance before she exited.

"House," Wilson said quietly. Between the pain, the horrid excitement and the medication taking effect, he felt his strength failing quickly.

House turned around to find his friend barely able to keep his eyes open. "Sleep Wilson," he urged gently. He placed a soft hand over Wilson's, trying to hide his smile when the fingers exhaustedly curled themselves around it.

The fingers gave a weak squeeze, "Thanks."

Wilson fell asleep, allowing the pull of the drugs to drag him under.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I apologize if Wilson's energy, etc after his surgery wasn't normal. I've never had surgery and therefore have had to guess. Please review! They help to keep this story, and me, going. <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

House sat in his chair watching Wilson sleeping peacefully. He didn't trust himself not to fall asleep again in case SIJ felt like coming back and trying again. He knew Cuddy wouldn't allow him back in but that didn't mean that he couldn't sweet talk his way back in with another nurse.

Whether or not he wanted to admit it, House knew that Tucker's "favor" had hurt Wilson. The idea that a friend could ask another one to undergo another, risky surgery wasn't unheard of (Wilson had asked him to undergo deep brain stimulation when he'd had a cracked skull after all).

But Tucker hadn't even blinked when he'd heard what kind of damage had been done. He hadn't even shown that he cared and that had hurt.

It hadn't shocked House of course, he knew that SIJ didn't really care about anyone but himself but Wilson always liked to believe in the best in people even when there was none.

Glass doors slid open with a _whoosh _admitting Cuddy. She walked over to where Wilson was sleeping and placed a hand on his still arm. "How's he doing?" she asked looking at House.

"He's sleeping," House said watching her very closely in case she felt like taking Wilson's liver herself.

"Tucker's dead," she announced not looking the least bit sorry.

"Good."

"Yes it is." She admitted freely before sparing a glance at the man in the bed. "But Wilson won't think it is."

"Why Dr. Cuddy are you hinting at something?" House asked faking stupidity.

"Do you want me to tell him?"

"No, I'll do it."

"No you won't." Cuddy said, determination shining in her eyes. "You are too happy and he'll need someone to be sympathetic."

"And of course, you think you're the person to do it even though you're the one who brought him in here," House challenged, anger heating his eyes.

"I had no idea he would ask for that!" She defended angrily. "He wouldn't tell me what the favor was, just that he needed to talk to Wilson directly."

"So you decided that it was okay."

"I didn't see the harm in it!"

"Guys," Wilson's soft voice called as loudly as he could.

Cuddy jumped and turned around, "Hey, how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," Wilson said weakly, "got a bit of a headache," he admitted giving them both a meaningful look before he raised a hand to his aching head.

"Mommy and Daddy were just having a discussion," House said condescendingly earning a glare from Cuddy.

"How's the leg?" Cuddy asked fully intending on ignoring House which currently included the scoff he'd just let out.

Wilson grimaced, "It's been better," he admitted.

"Do you need something for the pain?"

"Nope," House answered for him. Both people turned towards the voice and found him by Wilson's IV, empty syringe in his hand.

"House-" Wilson began, both annoyed and grateful that his friend had injecting what he assumed was pain medication into the IV.

"Trust me Wilson, you're going to need it if that PT has anything to say about it," House said pointing towards the door.

Sure enough there was a physical therapist heading for the door of Wilson's room. The doctor side of knew that it was common to try to get a surgical patient up and moving as soon as said patient could tolerate it but the patient side of pleaded, _"Please not today!" _

"Good afternoon Dr. Wilson, how are you doing today?" Shannon, the PT, asked a little too cheerily for all in the room.

"I'm good, how about yourself Shannon?" Wilson replied with a fake smile.

"You've got to be kidding me!" House exclaimed with a laugh. "Do you know EVERY nurse in this hospital?"

Shannon turned on House with a smile on her lips but anger in her eyes, "Unlike you Dr. House, Dr. Wilson actually acknowledges other people and remembers when they have helped him out before." She turned back to her patient, "How are you feeling?"

"Considering I just gave him some pretty good drugs, I'd say he's feeling really good." House interrupted again. He didn't like how much attention Shannon was paying to Wilson. Sure, he was her patient but there's only so much sugar niceness you can give before it turns into flirting.

"Funnily enough, I don't think I asked you Dr. House." Shannon sniped, throwing him an eye roll before returning her cavity inducing smile back on Wilson.

Cuddy did her best to stifle a laugh but it was hard. This was the reason she'd hired Shannon O'Malley to be Wilson's physical therapist. She didn't take crap from anyone, especially House, and while she may look tiny, the woman could kick your ass and have you on the ground in seconds if you tried anything with her.

"I'm okay. A little tired." Wilson said, adding a jaw cracking yawn to drive his point home.

"That's understandable for the first few days after surgery. I just came in to touch base with you on getting you up and around. As I'm sure you already know, we like to get you guys up and moving within 72 hours of your surgery to get you using your muscle and to get used to getting around so you don't have to be stuck in here for too long." Shannon explained, coming further up to the bed.

She ran a professional green eye over Wilson, focusing most on his elevated leg before she continued, "It looks like the only injury we have to worry about is your leg, is that right?"

"Yeah," Wilson said, holding his breath when it looked like she might actually run a hand over the bandaged limb.

"Alright, good. That will make our job a little easier. Now I was thinking of coming by tomorrow, what time would you prefer?" She pulled out a small notepad and began scribbling little notes on it.

"Uh, I don't know that I have a preference-"

"I do! Not early." House interjected, holding up his hand for emphasis.

"Okay, well then would nine o'clock work for you?" Shannon asked throwing a sweet smile at House's way.

"AM?" Wilson asked almost smacking himself afterwards. Of course am, what other time would she be talking about?

"Yeah, I figured that would give you enough time to sleep in and get some breakfast before we start. This will be painful and your stomach probably won't be up to handling food afterwards," she informed looking both informative and sympathetic.

Wilson let out a heavy sigh, sinking further into the not so comfortable hospital mattress. "9 am sounds great," he said, allowing his eyes to rest for a short few seconds.

"Great, well I'll let you get some rest and I'll see you tomorrow morning."

"You better bring coffee!" House called after her exiting form.

Cuddy rolled her eyes but said nothing. "I think I'll follow suit and let you get some rest," she said patting his shoulder.

"Didn't you have something you wanted to tell our dear Wilson?" House chided childishly.

Cuddy glared daggers at him, knowing that she wouldn't get away with waiting now that Wilson was aware of something. "Yeah, I'd almost forgotten," she said gruffly. She sat down on the side of Wilson's bed, her well toned gluteus maximus fitting perfectly.

Just as she was about to open her mouth, Wilson's eyes grew sad but appreciative and he pat her vacant hand which lay on the mattress.

"It's okay Cuddy," he assured tiredly, "I heard you telling House. When did he die?"

"About three this afternoon," she informed sadly. While she was furious at the man for what he'd asked of her friend, Cuddy had enough compassion to feel a sense of loss when a person died.

"Have you heard from his family?" Wilson shifted around to readjust and get comfortable; a person's body could handle one position for only so long before parts started falling asleep. His leg jostled a little as he moved, making him wince. Thank God he'd had his pain meds recently or that would have felt a lot worse.

"They're on their way to identify and arrange for burial," Cuddy said nodding slightly. She hesitated a moment before adding, "They want to speak to you. They wondered why you weren't handling his case and where you were; I told them nothing."

"Thanks Cuddy. Let me know when they arrive, I'd like to speak with them." Another jaw cracking yawn escaped and Cuddy found she couldn't keep him up any longer.

"Get some rest Wilson. I'll wake you if they come," she assured, having no actual intention of doing it. "House, outside please."

House gave Wilson a dramatic eye roll at which his friend laughed softly at then followed his boss out to the corridor.

"I think you should let him get some rest tonight," she announced, standing just in front of the door.

"What do you think I'm going to keep him up with my reindeer games?" House asked smirking.

"No because you're not Santa Clause," Cuddy answered with an eye roll that showed him how pathetic his attempt at a joke was, "but I do think that you will make him want to stay up and he needs the rest." She paused for a moment before adding, "And so do you."

House stared at her, judging her intentions. He guessed that she was trying to get him out of Wilson's hair for Wilson's sake. They both knew that Wilson didn't want them there while he was getting moved out of bed for the first time and he definitely didn't want (or need) them there when he was talking to Tucker's family but that didn't stop House from wanting to be there, though he'd never admit it out loud. "Okay," he conceded easily before walking back into Wilson's room.

Wilson had momentarily fallen asleep but had woken at the sound of his doors opening, "You in trouble?" he asked quietly.

"Cuddy thinks I should leave you alone tonight," House informed.

"Do you?" Wilson asked curious as to what his friend would say.

"Not particularly but I definitely don't want to be here for your meeting with SIJ's family either. So I'm going to take her advice and get some rest in a comfortable chair."

"I highly doubt that the recliner and ottoman in your office is as comfortable as your bed at home," Wilson scolded lightly, choosing wisely to ignore House's pet name for Tucker.

House gave a friendly sneer, "You're right. I'll see you tomorrow then. Bright and early!"

"Good night House," Wilson wished chuckling.

"Good night Wilson!" House called down the hallway.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

Dr. Lisa Cuddy sat in her office doing her best to get through her emails so she could go home to her fiancé and daughter. Unfortunately the darn things kept coming and she began to feel like she would never get through them.

It didn't help that her mind kept wandering to her head of oncology lying in his private hospital room with his leg partially shredded.

It hurt to know that her friend was in a lot of pain and, with the exception of giving him more drugs, there was nothing she could do about it.

A knock sounded at her door, bringing her from her thoughts and her computer. "Come in."

A blonde woman in her forties and a teenager with long brunette hair entered. Both of their eyes were red though the teenager was making an effort to hold them in. "Dr. Cuddy?"

"Yes?"

"I am," she paused, "was Tucker's wife, Melissa. This is his daughter, Emily."

"Oh, I'm sorry, yes, please come in." Cuddy stepped forward and ushered them to the couch to sit down.

"I asked to see Dr. Wilson and the nurse told me to come see you," the woman explained though her sentence was more of a question.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Dr. Wilson isn't available right now but he told me to let him know when you arrived and he'd see you."

Melissa wrinkled her brows, "I'm sorry, I don't understand. You say that he isn't available but yet you say that you will take us to him."

Cuddy nodded her head, trying to figure out how best to explain without actually explaining. "Dr. Wilson was in an accident while on the same trip as your, ex-husband."

"Is he alright?"

"He had to have surgery on his leg but he's resting comfortably." She paused in her explanation, standing, "I'll take you to him if you like."

Confusion was still written on the woman's face but she reluctantly stood and followed Cuddy to Wilson's room.

Cuddy turned around, stopping short just before they reached the room, "Wait here. I'm going to wake him and let him know you're here."

Melissa nodded, her face a mask of grief, confusion and dumbfounded.

Wilson lay on the bed, restlessly sleeping. His body twitched and his face creased in pain, his hands clenching the blankets furiously.

"Wilson," she called lightly.

Wilson jerked awake, brown eyes looking around for whoever called his name. "Cuddy?"

"Tucker's family is here," she said as her brows wrinkled in concern.

Wilson raised himself in the bed, groaning with the movement. His leg burned with throbbing pain, sending shards of it stabbing throughout his entire leg. "Go ahead and send them in."

"Do you want some pain relief first?" she asked hoping to God that he did.

Wilson nodded, "Just to take the edge off."

She wanted to do so much more than "take the edge off" but she respected his wishes and did as he asked. She waited until he relaxed a little before she asked, "Do you want me to get you some ice?"

"Is there a t-shirt around here somewhere? Maybe some pants that would fit over, that," he said pointing towards his heavily bandaged leg.

"Wilson, they aren't going to care what you're wearing. They know you've had surgery."

Wilson's eyes sharpened on hers, "What did you tell them?"

"That you were involved in an accident and had to have surgery on your leg. I didn't tell them anything specific. I left that up to you if you wanted to." Cuddy answered softly. Despite medical knowledge, she looked around the room for clothing rather than the gown that Wilson currently occupied.

She found a set of scrubs and brought them over to her friend. "Do you want me to help or would you rather that I get someone?"

"If you don't mind," Wilson said, figuring it was easier just to have her do it.

"Bottom to top?" She asked as she moved down to his feet. She'd grabbed a bottom set that would easily fit two of him since she knew that a normal pair wouldn't fit over his injured leg.

Bracing himself for what he needed to do and how much it would more than likely hurt, Wilson nodded.

Cuddy slipped the pants partially over Wilson's good leg before she gently lifted his injured one and slipped the other leg through as quickly as she could. She worked hard to ignore Wilson's gasp and groan of pain when she lifted the leg and worked harder still to pretend indifference to his quiet whimpers and the sweat forming on his brow the longer she kept it raised or moved it.

"Okay, ready for the shirt?" She asked, hoping to convey her apologies with her eyes.

Wilson nodded unable to say anything right now while he waited for the agony in his leg to calm to tolerably excruciating.

She snapped the buttons of his gown and slipped it off then slipped the top scrub over his head and turned around to toss the gown in a bin while he finished dressing. "Are you sure you don't want an ice pack?"

"Now that you mention it," Wilson answered tiredly, "that sounds fantastic."

Cuddy smiled then nodded. "Do you want me to send them in while I get it?"

Wilson leaned his head back against a pillow. It was really surprising how much energy it took to get dressed! "Yeah," he replied, not wholly certain that he was ready, "go ahead and send them in. Thanks Cuddy."

Cuddy offered a nod before exiting.

"Is he alright? We heard him groaning."

The Dean of Medicine turned towards the woman after requesting that a nurse get an ice pack for Wilson, "He'll be okay. He wanted to get dressed for your arrival."

The nurse had placed an ice pack in her hands while she was talking so when she finished, Cuddy turned on her heel and went back in to Wilson's room. The woman and her daughter followed, albeit hesitantly, behind.

Cuddy saw, with amazement, how Wilson's face went from pure exhaustion to chipper in milliseconds.

"Melissa," Wilson called out while holding out his hand for her to grab, "I'm so sorry about Tucker."

Melissa walked over to Wilson, grabbed his hand and leaned in for a gentle hung. She pulled back, tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks. "I didn't even know he was sick?"

"We didn't know what was wrong when he came in. Dr. House figured it out a couple of days ago. I didn't know he hadn't called you," Wilson replied almost apologetically.

"I know, it's okay. Besides, I hear you were quite busy yourself," Melissa said, a small spark of humor lighting her eyes.

"Yeah, what happened?" Emily spoke up, curiosity nudging her along.

Wilson sat quietly, wondering what all to tell them. "I broke my leg while running in the forest."

"Why do I sense that there's more to it than that?" Melissa asked slyly.

"Probably from spending a lot of time around doctors," Wilson laughed warmly, hoping he hid the wince behind it. When Emily's face wrinkled in concern, he guessed he hadn't done so well a job.

"Jim," Melissa said, half pleading to hear the truth.

"I stepped in a bear trap while trying to get to Tucker. The Leukemia was in his brain and had hit a part that controlled his arm – it had been paralyzed and he was scared. I didn't even see the trap until after it had clamped on." Wilson explained quickly, offering smiles often in an effort to soothe.

Melissa gasped, horrified. "Is your leg alright?" She knew the amount of damage a trap like that could do and she worried for her friend. When she saw a sadness pool in Wilson's brown eyes, she had her answer.

"Alright enough," he answered knowing that she'd seen close to the truth.

"Which means no," Emily said as she walked closer to his bed.

Wilson offered a tired, pained smirk. The girl was just as sharp as her mother. "I may not be able to run a track," he said giving Emily a warm smile, "but I'll still be able to walk which was the main worry."

He shifted again to try to get comfortable. He'd done his best not to move his leg but it hadn't worked and eventually he'd ended up turning it slightly, dumping the ice pack and sending white hot pokers of pain searing through his leg. He hissed and grimaced when the pain registered in his nerves.

Emily, having been closest to the ice pack, grabbed the fallen ice pack and gently placed it back on top of the hurting limb.

She hadn't been as close to her father's oncologist as her mother had, she never needed to. He'd grown close to the family during her father's illness, often providing a comforting shoulder or a willing ear when her mother needed it. He tried to help her as well but being a child, she didn't fully understand what was going on and therefore didn't feel that she needed it.

Dr. Wilson had come to Thanksgiving Dinner and sometimes Christmas Dinner as well, helping to grow closer to her family as a whole. He'd helped support her mother both financially and emotionally through the separation and eventually the divorce when it had happened.

Emily had often thought of him as more her mother's friend than her father's. She knew him as a kind, decent, sweet man and it saddened her to see him in this much pain.

Melissa also saw that he was in a lot of pain despite acting like he wasn't and it hurt. "Should I get a nurse? It looks like you could use something for the pain."

"I'll be okay in a bit," Wilson assured her with a slight smile. Weariness was pulling on him, urging him to go to sleep and it was getting harder and harder to fight.

Melissa gave a soft snort. "I'll let them know on our way out," she assured, giving his arm a slight pat.

"You're leaving?" Wilson asked, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Yeah, you need the rest and we have some arrangements to make before we head home. Call me and let me know how you're doing," she instructed softly. "Did you want me to call you and let you know about the funeral?"

"Yes, please. I'd like to be there." Wilson said earnestly. Yes Tucker had shown his true colors but that didn't mean that Wilson shouldn't be there to pay his respects – even if Tucker didn't have any.

Melissa spared a quick look at his bandaged leg, "Would you be able to get around?"

"One way or another," Wilson answered, his eyes open to slits.

Melissa bent down and gave a soft kiss on his forehead while Emily had given his hand a squeeze good bye. "Sleep well. I hope you heal quickly," Melissa said as she and her daughter made their way to the door.

"See you later Melissa. Bye Emily. Thanks for the help." Wilson greeted shortly before falling into a deep, pain free sleep.

Cuddy sat on a bench outside Wilson's room, waiting for the pair to come out.

Melissa and her daughter walked up to her, sad smiles on their faces. "I think he needs some pain medication," Melissa told her.

"I'll make sure he gets it," Cuddy assured her.

"He said that he'd gotten his leg caught in a bear trap. Will he regain full use of his leg?" The blond woman asked, concern in her eyes and voice though her body radiated strength.

Cuddy gave a quick look at Wilson's room then at the teenage girl. She let out a heavy sigh. "He will end up having to use a cane, like Dr. House, in order to get around but essentially yes."

Melissa knew of Dr. House by reputation (via Jim) alone. She knew that he needed a cane to get around because his right leg couldn't hold him. She also knew that he was in pain daily, a lot of pain. "Will he be in pain every day like Dr. House?"

"It won't be as extreme, but yes." Cuddy answered honestly. She saw the concern go deeper in the other woman and felt the need to assure her. "But I think that will only be when he's forced to be on his leg a lot which won't be as much as he is normally."

"You're going to cut his patients?" Melissa asked curiously.

Cuddy smiled, "No, he's going to learn how to delegate."

Both Emily and Melissa laughed at her joke. "Well," Melissa began after she'd calmed down, "we'd better go. Thank you for being honest with us. I'd managed to get the truth about what happened but he was vague on the prognosis."

"He probably didn't want you to worry," Cuddy admitted with an adoring look in her eyes. "Have a good night."

Melissa gave a nod of acknowledgement then gathered her daughter and left.

Cuddy watched them go with the feeling that she could be friends with that woman. She waited a few more minutes before she quietly made her way into Wilson's room, sitting down in the hard chair by his bedside.

She studied him for a few minutes before she pulled out a syringe of the rest of the dose of pain meds and administered it. She brushed a few hairs off his forehead before she bent down and gave him a sisterly kiss then walked out.

A part of her wanted to stay with him and make sure that he didn't wake up in pain or alone but she knew she couldn't. She did have a fiancé and a daughter waiting for her after all.

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><p><strong>Thanks for the reviews so far. Please keep them coming - I really appreciate them! <strong>

**I'm so glad that I have described how Wilson's feeling with accuracy. I always worry that I won't since I'm absolutely clueless as to how my character's feeling.**

**Cookie - Me too! I love protective!House. Caring!House and protective!House are my favorite ways to write him. :) Not very IC but oh well.  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

At 8:59am Shannon walked into Wilson's room, ready to begin the painful process of getting the oncologist moving. She was very glad to find that Dr. House wasn't present as she walked in.

Dr. Wilson was sitting in his bed with his hands in his lap, fidgeting with the blanket. She could tell that he was nervous and she didn't blame him.

"Good morning Doctor Wilson," she greeted cheerily.

"Good morning Shannon, how are you?" Wilson greeted in return doing his best to try to sound as cheerful as she did.

"I'm good, how about yourself? How was your night?" She asked, stepping around to the side of his bed with the IV.

"It was fine," Wilson answered. He looked around knowing that there were supposed to be at least two people around when a patient was moved from his bed to anywhere else.

Just when he was about to ask where her partner in crime was, the door to his room opened admitting a young man in his mid-20s with dark brown hair and dark chocolate eyes. Thankfully it was a young man that Wilson knew and knew he could trust.

"Good morning Doctor Wilson," the man greeted, coming over to stand beside Shannon.

"Hello Diego, how are you?" Wilson greeted.

"I'm good, how about you?" Diego answered warmly, concern deepening the brown in his eyes.

"Ready to get up," Wilson said even though he really didn't. The truth of the matter was that he was scared and nervous as hell to get out of bed but he also didn't want them asking him how he was because he hurt and he guessed that he would continue to hurt for awhile.

Both Diego and Shannon nodded their understanding.

"Alright well I'm going to inject a low level dose of hydrocodone into your IV then we'll give it a little time to work before we get you moving," Shannon informed professionally.

"Am I too late to see little Jimmy's maiden voyage?" A voice that caused all except Wilson in the room to cringe.

"What are you doing here?" Wilson asked actually relieved that his friend had come.

House looked at him, "I told you I'd be here bright and early.

"Yeah but for you bright and early is noon," Wilson countered allowing the smile that he wouldn't express to shine through his eyes.

"Today's a special day," House said sweetly.

"Doctor House if you would just please sit down and stay out of the way, that'd be great," Shannon said, annoyed that he'd actually shown up.

"Ruh-roh, someone's in a bad mood. Quick Wilson, kiss her maybe she'll be nicer."

"House!" Wilson grumbled, embarrassed.

"Would it work for you?" Shannon asked, eyebrows raised, "Because I think you could use it more."

Both men flushed at the suggestion, neither one wanting to admit that they liked the sound of it.

"Good, now that you're quiet," Shannon said with a triumphant smile on her face. She turned to Wilson, "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Wilson admitted with a wave of his hands around the room.

"Okay, we'll need you to shift so that your legs are hanging over the left side of your bed," Shannon instructed gently. She waited for Wilson to lift his injured leg off the pillows before she removed them to make the process slightly easier.

Wilson grimaced and gritted his teeth against the pain and strain his leg felt with the mere process of lifting if off the pillows. Gingerly, he twisted his body and lowered his left leg off the side of the bed, the right one quickly following behind.

A groan escaped through his tightly shut lips as the blood rushed into the damaged limb, spreading a white hot throbbing pain with it. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes but none fell much to the appreciation of his friend.

Diego and Shannon stepped on each side of Wilson and waited for him to catch his breath before they each grabbed an arm and gently hoisted Wilson off the bed.

Wilson let out a hiss and another groan when he was lifted off his bed and placed his good leg on the floor. Every movement sent excruciating pain throughout his left leg and every painstakingly slow step jarred his previously broken leg.

By the time they had made it to the chair, which hadn't been more than 10ft away, tears were beginning to fall down Wilson's cheeks and beads of sweat had formed at his brow from the incursion.

Shannon grabbed a spare chair while Diego quickly grabbed a freshly fluffed pillow and an ice pack.

"Okay," Shannon said once they'd gotten Wilson as settled as they could, "rest for awhile while Diego and I change the bed and get you some new pillows."

"Wow, room service," House teased, "who needs to live in a hotel when you could just stay in a hospital?"

"Good point," Wilson replied, his voice gruff from pain, "you should sell rooms."

House smiled at his friend's attempt at a joke, "I just might."

The diagnostician watched his friend carefully, frowning at just how much pain he seemed to be in.

He'd watched with an impartial air as Wilson had been lifted off the bed but he was anything but impartial. His heart ached and stones of sympathy had settled in his stomach when Wilson had let out the first groan when he'd lifted his leg off the pillow. Then he'd let out another groan and House had felt the air leave his lungs so fast that he thought someone had sucker punched him.

Stoically restraining from showing that he cared, House watched with a frown as Wilson hopped to his new, temporary seat. He continued to watch with jealousy filling his veins as Shannon ran her hands all over Wilson, checking his heart rate and lifting his leg off the floor for him.

When Wilson looked at him with tears running down his face, House had to actually put a hand over his heart to make sure there wasn't a knife in it. It took a lot to make Wilson cry and that very knowledge alone told him just how much his friend was hurting.

Anger swelled anew in his chest and for a moment House wished he could raise the dead bastard who'd caused this so he could kill him again. Rationally he knew that it wasn't really SIJ's fault but, since he didn't know who had actually set the trap, that was all who was left to blame.

Wilson leaned his head back against the wall, closed his eyes and waited for the ice to work its magic. When he decided that he could look at House without crying, Wilson opened his eyes and stole a glance at House.

He was surprised to find House watching him with a look of such longing and desperation that for a moment Wilson just stared. He didn't know which emotion surprised him more – the longing or the desperation.

Longing Wilson would definitely understand for though House and he had never talked about it, he felt the same. He longed to know what it felt like to touch House in such an intimate way that neither would question the intent. He longed to know what it felt like to lay in House's arms night after night with both of them being sober before and afterwards. Most of all, he longed to know what it felt like to be loved by House, truly and wholly loved.

It was the desperation that Wilson didn't understand, well coming from House at least. Sure, he understood what it felt like to be so desperate to ease a friend's pain that he'd be willing to take it himself but he seriously doubted that's how House felt at the moment.

He kept staring, seemingly blankly but in fact his eyes were focused on House's body language.

For the most part, House looked relaxed, almost detached but the more Wilson looked at him, the more he saw anxiety. It was showing so clearly through the cerulean irises that for a second Wilson felt nothing but the desire to ease it.

Eventually Wilson's eyes traveled to House's right hand. It covered his heart and clutched tightly enough for the white in his knuckles to show. Briefly, Wilson wondered if House's heart hurt medically but then realization dawned him so bright it was almost blinding.

House's heart did in fact hurt but it was a hurt that nothing could soothe for it hurt for Wilson.

The notion seemed ridiculous to the oncologist but he himself had felt that specific type of pain and knew personally just how badly it hurt.

He tried desperately to find the right words to help ease the pain his friend was in but Wilson was at a total loss. It wasn't until Shannon and Diego left that Wilson decided just to be frank – a quality that House always appreciated.

"Are you alright House?"

House stared at Wilson at a loss on how to explain just what he felt. He looked at Wilson, hoping that everything he fault and felt came through clearly enough.

Wilson offered a small smile. "I know," he assured, "I know."

Briefly House wondered just what all Wilson knew but just as he had showed Wilson what he'd wanted to say, so the oncologist did for him.

He saw all the loving tenderness that Wilson felt towards him and he saw the sympathy of someone who knew exactly how he felt, wholly and completely.

Just as he was about to get up and move his chair to be next to his friend, Shannon and Diego returned, Shannon pocketing a syringe of medication as she entered.

"Are you ready to get back into bed?" She asked cheerily though her eyes shown brightly with regret. Neither House nor Wilson needed to wonder what she regretted for they knew that she actually cared about her patients and didn't like causing them pain.

Wilson released a long sigh hoping to calm his nerves by doing so. "Yeah, I am," he answered finally as he felt exhaustion begin to pull on him.

They reversed the process of getting Wilson out of bed and got him back in with relative ease. Unfortunately the same, or better, couldn't be said for the pain it caused.

By the time they'd gotten him back in bed, Wilson was once again groaning and crying from the pain that ravaged his leg. He collapsed onto the bed, the fluffy pillows a welcome support for his tired and hurting body.

While the nurses helped get Wilson settled, House reached into Shannon's pocket, much to her furious indignation, and grabbed the syringe. After briefly asking what it was to make sure his friend wasn't allergic to it, House plunged the medication into Wilson's IV and waited, almost anxiously, for Wilson to relax.

House pushed the olive green armchair closer to the bed as the others left, leaving only Wilson and himself in private silence.

Slowly but surely Wilson began to relax as the pain medicine took control and numbed his nerves, but House couldn't stop himself from placing one hand on Wilson's and using the other to trace light lines on his cheekbone.

He hadn't noticed that he'd been holding his breath until he released it in a great sigh when Wilson leaned into his touch and closed his eyes, an expression of pure contentment on his face.

Fatigue weighed heavily on Wilson, dragging him down towards the waiting darkness with the promise of pain free rest – an offer that was looking more tempting by the second.

House began running his hand through Wilson's thick, chestnut lock. The action had the desired effect and not thirty seconds into the petting, House had the pleasure of hearing Wilson snoring softly, his breath tickling House's arm.

The diagnostician smiled, finally allowing himself to express his own happiness and contentment at what was beginning to happen between him and his best friend.

* * *

><p>Cuddy watched her two favorite department heads through the glass door, blending in easily with the bustle of the staff running around.<p>

A mixture of jealousy, sadness and joy filled her as she watched House begin stroking Wilson's face in a comforting, loving gesture. Though she knew it was silly, she'd hoped that House wouldn't have moved on so quickly but after she put thought into it she realized that this move hadn't been quick. It had been blooming from a 17 year friendship.

Quickly reminding herself that she not only had, and was in love with, Lucas, Wilson was probably the ONLY person in the world who could look at House, see him as he is and not as the oncologist would want him to be, and NOT try to change him. Wilson was the only person who would love House for House and want nothing more than what House was willing to give.

She tilted her head to the side as she saw House give a smile that she had never seen before. It was a smile of true joy. She nodded silently and smiled. She walked away thinking _It's about time! _

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

The next couple of days passed quietly for the people in Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Wilson continued to heal, albeit slowly and painfully and House continued to show up whenever he could.

They hadn't spoken of what had silently passed between them a few days earlier, they hadn't needed to. There was a silent understanding between them that no words needed to be said, that they were just going to go with it and enjoy each other's company.

One Saturday morning Cuddy entered to find House and Wilson laughing about some private joke.

"Good morning Doctor Cuddy!" House said loudly. The smile on his face faded slightly as his eyes focused on the two figures behind her.

"Hey," Lucas greeted with a half assed wave. He was currently trying to hold on to Rachel who wanted nothing more than to run around.

The smile faded off Wilson's face as well though his eyes still held the humor he'd previously felt. He watched House's reaction to the PI trying to gauge how friendly he should be.

"Lucas," House acknowledged with a head nod. He kept his hand on Wilson's and gave it a squeeze to assure his friend that things were okay.

"We came to see how you were feeling," Cuddy said, making her way over to Wilson's bed.

"And to see if you wanted to be my best man," Lucas announced to House.

"Well seeing as I haven't been invited, sure why not? I love to party crash." House replied sarcastically.

"Yes we know," Lucas said, putting Rachel on the ground.

"Anyways," Cuddy said throwing a meaningful look at her fiancé, "we also wanted to bring this." She held out a card with Wilson and House's names inscribed in gold lettering.

Wilson shifted in his bed to sit up straighter then grabbed the invitation. His leg had begun to ache but thankfully it wasn't too bad yet.

"I wanted to get it to you earlier," Cuddy apologized, "but things happened."

"Thanks," Wilson said understanding that had things been different, he would have received the invitation a couple of weeks ago. He read the invitation and looked up in surprise to find that it was for next week.

House peered at the invitation over Wilson's side, reading silently. "Look who's in a hurry," he said when he noticed the date.

"We've had this planned for awhile," Cuddy informed.

"Well, as much as I'd love to participate, standing for long periods of time and cripples don't go well together," House said finally answering Lucas' offer.

"Fair enough." Lucas had guessed that it was a long shot but he wanted to offer anyways.

"So, when are you getting released?" Cuddy asked for a change of subject.

"Tomorrow thankfully," Wilson answered, fidgeting around.

"Little miss flirt is supposed to come by later to watch Wilson crutch around though I think she'll be watching more than just his actions," House sniped.

"Talking about me Doctor House?" Shannon's sweet voice chimed. She stood in the room, closely by the door, holding a pair of grey crutches in her hands.

"Well, we should go," Cuddy said, trying to gather an energetic Rachel.

"No that's okay," Shannon said stepping more into the room, "I just wanted to drop these off and make sure he gets around on them okay but since you're here, I think I can trust you to do that." She handed the crutches off to Cuddy, blushing slightly. "Besides, I think some people would prefer if I stayed away from Doctor Wilson."

She walked out of the room before House could even try to retort.

"What?" House asked looking innocently at Cuddy and Wilson's glares.

"You're such a jerk," Cuddy commented breathily, trying to hide not only a smile but a laugh. She prepared the crutches then held them out for Wilson to grab. "Come on, you heard the pretty girl, time to get up and move around."

Wilson lowered his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing when the blood rushed back into the injured limb. Pain seared and the throbbing deepened reverberating through the bone so hard he thought it would break again.

He was thankful when House came around to his side to offer support. Though he did his best not to lean too heavily on his crippled friend, his body just wasn't ready to fully support itself.

"Maybe you should wait," Cuddy suggested seeing his struggle. She didn't like the amount of pain she saw in his face nor the weakness in his muscles.

Wilson offered a pained smile, "I appreciate the thought but this is just something I need to get used to."

He grabbed the crutches from her thankful for House holding him steady so he didn't fall. His leg was hurting so badly that he was tempted to just sit back down but he knew the truth of his own words and refused to back down. Besides if he were to give up now, he'd not only be acting like House but he would be a hypocrite.

There were many titles that fit almost too comfortably on his shoulders, House has come up with most of them but hypocrite wasn't one of them.

Slowly, reluctantly, he began his journey on the crutches. He began by taking small steps, grinding his teeth when each step he took jarred his injured and already hurting leg, sending more pain vibrating through it.

He gingerly made his way around the small 12X12 room. On his way back to the bed, Rachel ran right in front of him, tripping him up. He tried to step back but he ended up trying to place small amount of weight on his leg. If it hadn't been for Lucas who had been standing closely by, he would have collapsed onto the hard floor in a heap of agony.

As it was, he let out a loud, pained cry as excruciating agony ripped through his leg, tearing it apart layer by layer. He was in too much pain to notice that House had come up on his other side and slung his arm over his shoulder all the while staring at him with intense blue eyes.

House gave Lucas a nod in Wilson's bed's direction and between the two of them they go the oncologist back onto the bed. Using as gentle a touch as he knew, House felt around the scar and damaged tissue, checking to make sure that Wilson hadn't caused any damage when he'd stepped down.

Wilson whimpered at his friend's touch and tears began to streak down his cheeks but he remained still, using the blankets of the bed as an outlet for the pain that raged through his body.

Cuddy handed Rachel over to Lucas who promptly took the scared little girl out of the room while her mother grabbed Wilson's hand, allowing him to squeeze the hell out of it instead of the bed.

She pressed the nurse button on the bed controls, ignoring the fact that Wilson was more than likely breaking his hand with his grip. When the nurse appeared Cuddy demanded that she bring an early dose of Wilson's pain medication immediately.

The training she put her staff through paid off when the nurse immediately responded by grabbing the dose from the cart which sit just outside the room and plunged it instantly into the IV.

House kept his focus on his friend, not caring about anyone else in the room but the man who lay in agony. He used his thumb to stroke gentle circles over the plump cheek bones, providing as much comfort as he could.

Five minutes later Wilson slowly began to relax. House brushed the damp tears out of the younger man's eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when they focused on him.

"Hey," Wilson croaked, his voice rough from silent crying. He looked around and found both Cuddy and House watching him a little too intently for his liking. He realized that he'd been clutching Cuddy's hand and promptly released it with an apologetic look on his face.

He looked around again before he noticed that a couple of people were missing, "Where are Lucas and Rachel?"

"They took a short walk," Cuddy said still studying him.

"Is she okay?"

"Wilson would you worry about yourself for once?" House snapped, more than a little angry with the child.

Wilson ignored his worried friend and kept looking at Cuddy, waiting for her to answer.

"She's a little scared but she'll be fine," Cuddy answered honestly figuring that if she didn't Wilson would know anyways. She placed a soft hand over his, "I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine," Wilson assured though he was still hurting a little, "there's no need for you to be sorry."

"I disagree but that's just me." House interjected giving Cuddy a glower that almost made her understand how every other employee felt.

"House, she's a little girl," Wilson defended both annoyed and tired, "you can't expect a little girl to sit quietly for a long period of time."

"Sure I can," House countered, "or at the very least expect her parents," he threw another glare at Cuddy, "to keep control of her."

Knowing that the taciturn diagnostician was right, Cuddy withdrew her hand from Wilson's. "I should go. I'll see you later."

"Cuddy, you don't have to leave-"

"Just the child," House interrupted.

Wilson brought a hand to his head to massage the headache that he was getting away. "House-"

"Wilson it's okay," Cuddy assured, "Lucas and I have some things to organize for the wedding."

"I'll see you in a week," Wilson promised hinting towards her wedding.

"Good. Feel better," she wished before she exited.

House gave Wilson's hand a pat then followed behind her.

"House," Cuddy said confused.

"Do me a favor," House said, making sure to keep his voice low and quiet, "when we come to your wedding, keep control of tweedle dumb."

Cuddy's expression went from surprised to pleasure, "I never knew that you were so protective of Wilson."

House took a small step back, trying to decide how to react. He decided for defensive, "I don't normally have to be."

However Cuddy's expression didn't change, "No, I suppose not. I'll see you Monday House."

House watched Cuddy walk away with anger bubbling in him. He stalked back into Wilson's room where Wilson was lying in bed looking as week as a kitten. It surprised him how much it hurt to see his friend so tired and in pain.

Protectiveness swelled within him so strong House wondered if he'd drown in it. The urge to guard the man before him from everything threatened to overwhelm him and soon he couldn't help but curl his hand possessively around his wrist.

Wilson's eyelids fluttered and weary brown eyes focused on him. "Hey," he said quietly, "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Yeah because you wanted to have a part of your leg taken out, be in excruciating pain and then damn near fall on said damaged leg because a little girl's mother isn't watching her," House quipped, lowering his hip onto the bed.

"Fair point," Wilson admitted with a pained laugh, "it wasn't Cuddy nor Rachel's fault."

House nodded that he knew but he wasn't about to defend his actions. He saw pain flit across Wilson's handsome features again and it took all he had not to gather the man in his arms and hold him. "You okay?" he asked, almost smacking himself in the head instantly afterwards.

"No," Wilson answered honestly, "but I will be soon."

"Do you need more pain meds?" House offered wanting to do anything that would help ease the extreme discomfort his friend was feeling.

Wilson focused completely on House for a moment at the desperation in his voice. He tried to express the sympathy he felt without actually showing that it was sympathy. "Come here," he said, patting the spot next to him.

"Wilson, those beds aren't meant for two people," House said in order to hide that he was almost jumping for joy on the inside at the idea.

"Yes, I forgot that you're such a stickler for rules and limitations," Wilson quipped though his voice lacked his usual amount of sarcasm. Painfully he moved over, hoping to make enough room for his friend. "Get down here, we'll make it work."

House rolled his eyes and gave a heavy sigh but did as he was bid. He stretched out on the bed, more than aware of just how well Wilson's form seemed to mold to his. He wrapped his left arm around Wilson's shoulder as the oncologist curled into him.

"Is this okay for your leg?" House asked concerned that this was doing more harm than good. Wilson lay on his right side, his left arm lying innocently on top of House's stomach and his leg lying on its side but still supported.

Despite the fact that his leg was still hurting, it hadn't become worse in this position so he saw no need to admit that. He released a content sigh, "Yeah, it's fine. You?"

"I'm good," House said realizing the truth of his words.

"Good," Wilson said feeling the regular feeling of exhaustion begin to weigh on him. "I'm going to take a small nap. Feel free to watch TV."

House hugged Wilson closer to him but didn't answer. Within seconds he felt Wilson's breathing even out and he heard quiet snores coming from the man on his chest.

With a happy sigh House lowered his head against the head of the bed and closed his eyes. He hadn't realized how tiring caring was. As he began to fall asleep, he joked internally that know he knew why he usually avoided it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks so much for the reviews and comments! I love reading what you all think and your surmises and suggestions. They help nudge me to keep going. I apologize for taking so long to update - I recently remembered a love for a solitaire game called Addiction Solitaire and believe me, the it is named that for a reason! :) I hope this chapter was worth the wait. I thought a calming chapter was in order to give a break from all the hurting I've been doing to our favorite oncologist. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7:<strong>

"I came to break you out," House announced as he walked in to Wilson's room, brown bag in hand.

"House, you know I'm getting released today," Wilson reminded.

The joyous smile faded from House's face, though it still remained in his eyes. "Sure, spoil my fun."

"Don't I always?" Wilson asked with a sly smile. His face wrinkled in confusion when he nodded towards the bag. "So what's in the bag?"

"The usual: duct tape, tooth paste, acid. All essential to the breaking out process," House gave a coy smile but proceeded to pull out a McGill tee and a loose pair of sweats. He tossed them onto the man in the bed who received them with great joy. "I figured you wouldn't want to walk," he cocked his head to the right and ran his eyes quickly over Wilson's injured leg, "or rather crutch out of the hospital in scrubs."

"Thanks," Wilson said, switching out his scrubs for the fresh clothing, "but actually I'll be riding."

At that moment Shannon came into the room pushing a wheelchair.

House gave one look at that wheelchair then sniffed at it. "Don't expect me to push you around."

"It's just til I get out of the hospital you know that. I'll have the lovely job of crutching around the loft all by myself," Wilson replied while offering a grateful smile at Shannon who had come over to help him change out of the scrub pants and into the sweat pants.

"I could have done that," House grumbled, not liking the fact that her hands where on Wilson.

"But then when would I have gotten a chance to see Doctor Wilson half naked?" Shannon retorted mischievously. The sly grin on her face changed to a wide, warm one when she noticed that Wilson had begun to blush.

"Oh I'm sure Wilson would have got around to you eventually," House remarked with a smile.

"Yes, it's too bad that you had to wait before he'd managed to screw every nurse in the hospital before he got around to you," Shannon said with a polite smile.

"Nah," House responded ignoring Wilson's indignant splutter, "he had to know what bad sex felt like at some point in time."

"As much as this circling each other and snapping at the other's legs is turning me on," Wilson interrupted annoyed," I'd really like to get out of here."

Shannon turned a beaming smile on her patient, "Of course." She went and grabbed the wheelchair, which had been abandoned by the door, and threw House a murderous glare before turning around with the beaming smile back on her face.

House watched closely as she took her sweet time helping Wilson lower into the chair. He watched as her hand lingered a little too long on his friend's shoulders, massaging small, gentle circles into the tight muscles. Jealousy and anger flourished within him like a thorny rose as he saw her hands travel slowly up from the leg she helped raise to the thigh.

The touches hadn't been that long really but House saw them for what they were – provocative, predatory, and a challenge.

Deciding that it was best to get her away from Wilson as quickly as possible, House came up behind the chair practically pushing Shannon out of the way as he did.

"I thought you weren't going to push me," Wilson responded confused.

"I need a good workout," House responded lamely, "I haven't had sex in days."

Shannon walked swiftly beside Wilson's chair, her pace easily matching House's. He could tell that she wanted to say something but couldn't manage to find the words.

She waited patiently as Wilson got into House's car. After grabbing the wheelchair she leaned in, "Good bye Doctor Wilson. If you need help with a patient, let me know."

Wilson sat blank for a bit before he shook the creepy feeling from his mind. "Uh, thank you. I will."

House slammed the door shut after making sure that Wilson was in the car. He didn't like Shannon's closeness to Wilson and he could tell that the oncologist wasn't so sure about it either.

Shannon offered him an eye roll then proceeded to walk away. If House could have seen her face he would have seen the triumphant smile that had crossed it followed by a deviously cunning look. Yes, she had a plan and now she needed to wait it out.

* * *

><p>Wilson slowly made his way into the loft, thankful for the brief break that the elevator ride had afforded. If you had never used crutches in your life, you'd never know just how much of a workout they were. Between depending heavily on your arms to support you and your one good leg to lift and hold your body weight, it was what most would consider a full body exercise.<p>

He unlocked the loft while leaning heavily on the grey supports then began making his way in. Not even caring to dump his coat, Wilson headed straight for the very inviting couch.

House followed closely behind his friend more than ready to catch him should the need arise. While he knew that yesterday had in fact been an accident he didn't exactly want a repeat either. He released a sight of both relief and anticipation as Wilson lowered himself onto the couch – _And we're off! _

The diagnostician knew that with Wilson being a new cripple he would be doing a lot of the cooking and caring. Truth be known, he didn't mind either but they would be taxing on his own crippled leg.

Gimping into the kitchen, House pulled two beers out of the refrigerator then put them in his jeans pockets (one on each side) so he could make his way over to the couch without having to worry about dropping one.

Wilson waved his beer away giving House a look that said, _"You shouldn't mix beer with heavy medication, you know that!" _

House rolled his eyes and ignored the message, popping the top of his own beer and downing it with the practice he received in college. While he was no longer on heavy medication, he was and he didn't have a problem with swallowing a couple, or six, vicodin with a glass of Scotch.

While House had been busy drinking his beer, Wilson had grabbed the remote and turned on Mythbusters just in time to see an explosion worthy of the scientists. Both House and Wilson let out appreciative "OH's" with smiles on their faces.

The credits rolled and another episode started announcing that they were doing JAWS myths which both men found interesting. Propping up limbs in comfortable places, they snuggled up for another exciting episode.

By their fifth episode House's stomach began rumbling making both men look to the clock. They were shocked to find that they had spent the last six hours watching TV and hadn't bothered doing anything else.

Both House and Wilson's legs were beginning to announce rather loudly that it was time for some pain meds and their bladders said that it they needed to be emptied.

After taking the appropriate meds, House headed to the bathroom first. He tossed his cell at Wilson who caught it easily and told him to press 4 then call. As Wilson soon found out, number four on House's phone was the Chinese take out place around the corner. He ordered their favorites and gave them his credit card number to pay before he hung up then made the slow and painful process of heading towards the bathroom.

They each had their own bathrooms attached to their bedrooms so Wilson had to pass his awfully tempting bed to relive his bladder. On the way back out to the living room, the oncologist found that he couldn't ignore the tempting call any further and promptly collapsed onto the soft pillow-top mattress.

Pain radiated from his injured leg up to his hip but he ignored it in favor of tossing a spare pillow to the bottom of the bed and placing the hurting limb on top of it. He breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes allowing the softness of the mattress and the familiarity of the sheets and comforter to curl around him in the protective swaddle of home.

* * *

><p>The rest of the week passed in much the same way as that first day back. The two men hung out on the couch watching a lot of the Discovery Channel while eating nothing homemade.<p>

Wilson's leg continued to heal but it was slow going and still quite painful.

The night before Cuddy's wedding, Wilson sat on his bed looking despairingly at a pair of his nice work slacks. He held a pair of silver scissors in his hand while he briefly pondered whether or not it was actually worth it to slit the left pant leg so he could get his bandaged limb into them.

On the one hand he hated ruining clothes in any way shape or form but on the other he was going to be heading back to work soon and would need a pair, or two, of slacks that he could wear. It was February for God sakes and he couldn't go out around in shorts all the time.

He bent down and picked up the mocha colored pants, cringing as the sound of shears through fabric echoed throughout the room.

"Please tell me you're destroying some of those hideous ties," House called out as he made his way into Wilson's room. He smiled when he saw what his friend was doing. "Well, it's not a tie but you're right, those pants were hideous."

Wilson scowled at House for a moment then turned back towards his task, taking a black pair into his hands and cutting them. "I'm making room for my leg to fit so that I have a nice pair of pants to wear at work."

"And at Cuddy's wedding tomorrow," House said knowing very well what the next day was.

"Yes," Wilson answered prissily, "which reminds me, are you going?"

"Like I said, I always like to crash a party," House answered a bit too sharply for the joke to reach its potential.

Wilson nodded, "It's kind of hard to crash a party that you're actually invited to."

"Minor details my good man."

Wilson nodded again. He set the scissors down on the bedside table then proceeded to lay his pants on an armchair which sat closely by. "What I meant was, are you going with me?"

Though the words sounded almost exactly the same, House heard the meaning behind them. It was as close as Wilson would come to bringing up a topic that they both silently agreed not to speak of.

He walked over to the side of the bed that Wilson sat on and proceeded to lower himself down next to his friend. Grabbing a slightly shaking hand, House used his spare to bring Wilson's focus to his own face. "Yes."

The answer had been simple enough but the relief that flooded through Wilson was enough that had he been standing he would have fallen onto the bed. A solitary tear trickled down his face but before he could swipe it away a calloused hand placed itself firmly on his cheek and used the thumb to brush it into nonexistence.

"Come on," House prompted gently, "let's get you to bed. You can worry about how pretty you'll be tomorrow."

House waited for Wilson to get comfortable in the bed before he climbed in as well. He smiled at the shocked expression on his friend's face but refused to acknowledge the shock and continued his slow shift in the bed until he was curled up and around Wilson.

He felt Wilson wiggle until the oncologist was closely snuggled in his arms. House let out a small rumble laughter escape before he placed a soft kiss on Wilson's forehead and whispered, "Good night, Wilson."

Wilson didn't respond for very soon after he heard those words, House's breathing evened out and he began to snore softly.

While the action of House following him into bed was unexpected, it certainly wasn't unwanted. He loved the feeling of House cuddling close to him. It made him feel safe. He had never felt like he was in danger in his life, even when he was around Danny, but he'd never known the feeling that someone would always be there for him, if not in his own way. He'd never known the feeling of someone being there to protect him and love him for him and though House hadn't said anything about loving him, he hadn't needed to.

Gregory House was not the type of man to cuddle but he had willingly done exactly that at two different times. Sure the first time Wilson had asked but the misanthropic man could have easily said no and left. He hadn't and instead he'd chosen to curl up on the uncomfortable, poor excuse for a hospital bed and cuddle with him.

Now, more than a week later, here they were cuddled comfortably in his bed without a single complaint being made from either man and Wilson couldn't be happier.

He fell asleep thinking of nothing, all thoughts having been driven out of his mind by the sheer safety he felt lying in House's arms.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

The February wind whipped viscously at their exposed skin, biting and nipping the sensitive skin cold at attempted frostbite. White-grey clouds hovered over Princeton, threatening snow for the tenth time this winter. Why on Earth someone had decided to get married in winter was beyond House but Wilson could see the attraction, even if it was below freezing out and one of the most romantic holidays of the year.

Though he hadn't been around work, House had still managed to tease Cuddy for getting married on Valentine's Day. Wilson on the other hand could understand it. If there was one "holiday" that he thought was ridiculous to celebrate, it was V-day. He liked the idea of having something worth celebrating happen on that day and if it was a wedding, so be it.

Both men watched where they walked with strong care. It had snowed not twelve hours ago and they didn't trust that the church had salted the walk as thoroughly as they should have, especially with Wilson on crutches.

It was sweet how much of a mother hen House was being. Not only was he watching where he was going but he was watching where Wilson stepped, herding him into the church with carefully concealed concern. He made sure to grumble and complain, rather loudly, about having to take care of a cripple while being a cripple himself. He made sure to make a few jokes about it within earshot of almost everybody then smirked viscously as several heads turned in disgust.

Cuddy and Lucas had decided to have two ceremonies performed. One traditional for Lucas' "side", which basically included House and Cuddy's non-Jewish friends, and one Jewish ceremony to make her mother happy.

House and Wilson had been invited to the traditional one and so they walked into the church and sat down a pew closer to the back. Wilson's entire body ached from using the crutches and his leg throbbed painfully more so from the extreme cold and the constant pounding of his good leg on the hard, unyielding sidewalk.

With a shrug, House followed. He was more than happy to sit at the back where he could easily slip out and walk around if he should get bored or his leg begins to cramp but he was surprised that Wilson didn't want to sit closer. The oncologist wasn't an attention hog but he would want to sit closer to where he could see the ceremony with perfect clarity and take a few pictures.

"You should stretch out to keep your leg elevated," House commented as they settled into the wooden bench. He wasn't wholly uncomfortable being in church, it was just a place after all since there was no God, but he was a little annoyed that there wasn't a way to keep Wilson's leg off the floor while keeping the injured man comfortable.

"And what if someone wants to or needs to sit down?" Wilson asked worriedly. He didn't want to take up room that was needed but he couldn't deny the appeal to get his throbbing leg off the floor.

House rolled his eyes. He wasn't shocked by Wilson's answer in the slightest but he still found it ridiculous. "Look around," he answered using his hand to wave openly at the half empty church, "it's about 5 minutes until show time and half the place is still empty. Unless they get a last minute rush, no one is going to need that seat."

"What is this, dinner and a show?" Wilson asked, his brows wrinkling in sarcastic confusion.

"Well, there is a meal afterwards so I'd say it's more a show then a lunch," House responded thoughtfully. He proceeded to roll his eyes heavily as Wilson proceeded to hesitate. "Just put your leg up," he commanded lightly in agitation.

Wilson looked around like he expected someone to come out and attack him. There was a pretty fair amount of empty pews and given that most of Cuddy's friends knew House, none of them would want to sit near him anyways. Reluctantly he raised his leg onto the hard surface almost wishing that he'd brought a pillow as his leg met with unmoving resistance.

The ceremony started with the organ groaning out every solemn note and Cuddy walked down the aisle, every head turned to her in beautiful awe.

Her dress was a simple white with a manageable trail flowing behind. Beads accented the shoulder line of the strapless top, showing off her beautiful collar bone and a blue emerald necklace. Her hair had been kept down, curls waving through the brown locks beautifully and her makeup had been done expertly to accent her grey eyes.

A bouquet made up of various tulips, lilies and roses accented her delicate but strong hands. She'd decided not to go with a veil for this particular ceremony since she'd be wearing one for her mother.

Lucas' face had been priceless as he watched his bride walk down the aisle towards him. There was the look of "Yeah Baby!" but there was also a look of "Wow!"

The ceremony itself passed swiftly and before the men knew it, it was time to stand up and watch the happy couple walk out of the church.

House quickly handed Wilson a dose of pain meds before swallowing his own then they slowly made their way to the car to head where the reception was being held, Cuddy's house.

They walked into the living room of the cozy home just in time to watch the happy couple come bursting through the doors. The smiles on their faces wanted to make House puke but he held his true feeling in behind a fake smile.

He watched as Wilson crutched his way up to the couple and give his and House's happy wishes. He rolled his eyes at the sentiment but stoically kept his opinions to himself.

The furniture of the home had been either put in storage or pushed to the side to allow for the decent sized group, making almost everyone stand around, chatting about whatever their hearts desired. Every time he'd looked for an empty place to sit, someone had quickly taken over it.

Surprisingly, he didn't want the seat for himself though his leg was beginning to ache awfully. He didn't like how much standing Wilson was being forced to do and he wanted to get the injured oncologist off his feet as quickly as possible.

"House," Cuddy's voice called softly in his ear.

"Doctor Cuddy fancy meeting you here," House commented acting surprised. "I suppose congratulations are in order, though why you'd want to attach yourself to one person for the rest of your life, I have no idea."

"Thanks I think," Cuddy answered, her brows wrinkling briefly in confusion. "I reserved a place for you and Wilson to sit down if your interested."

"Are you kidding?" House asked, "I love standing, why would I want to sit down?"

Cuddy nodded, easily reading what was beneath the sarcasm. "It's over there," she said, pointing in the direction of the dining room, "it's a couch so you both should fit. I'll bring a spare chair for Wilson's leg."

She walked away, not bothering to wait for House to answer. She was just as worried about all the standing her head of oncology was doing and she wanted to get him settled comfortably as quickly as she could.

House walked over to where Wilson was awkwardly standing, "Come on, Cuddy found primo seats."

"Are we attending a concert?"

"Nope, just a dance." House's eyes twinkled merrily, "Come on, let's get you sitting down."

Wilson couldn't resist a caring House and submitted easily. He was exhausted and beginning to hurt so the request wasn't that hard to give in to.

He groaned as he lowered his aching body onto the couch but soon breathed a sigh of relief as his weight was distributed easily on the well stuffed cushions.

It was a few minutes before House gently pulled Wilson's hurting leg onto his lap, making sure not to put pressure on his ruined thigh. Tender hands massaged Wilson's thigh lulling him into a relaxed state one doesn't normally get into when around strange company.

He was more than a little surprised but just how, dare he say sweet?, House was being while being surrounded by people he didn't know, didn't like and thought were morons. Normally the misanthropic man did his best to distance himself from everyone and everything no matter who was doing the touching.

Now he was openly touching him, massaging him, in an effort to provide comfort Wilson found it no only extremely weird but wonderfully sweet. He could get used to this House. He had the acerbic wit and dry sarcasm that he grew to love but he also had a caring side that he often craved in his friend.

An ipod station began and Cuddy and Lucas came into the room to begin dancing to Nat King Cole's "When I Fall in Love".

The dance was beautiful. It was no surprise that Cuddy could dance, she was a woman after all and most assumed that all women can dance, but the mere fact that Lucas was the one leading her expertly across the hard wood floor in such a trance-inducing style was shocking.

Most men depend on their wives to get through the dance part, allowing them to lead or taking lessons before hand but everyone who watched, which was almost every person in the house, could tell that Lucas was the one in full control.

For a brief moment, Wilson imagined he and House in Cuddy and Lucas' position. He imagined House looking absolutely handsome in a tux and Wilson looking like himself in his own tux with matching silver bands on their hands.

Pain spiked hot and fierce in his leg reminding him that neither of them would be able to dance at their own ceremony. It saddened him a little to think that he wouldn't be able to have exactly what Cuddy and Lucas were currently having, a romantic moment with the just the two of them.

Wilson shook his head to clear the images out of his mind and to remind himself that he and House had just barely started this relationship. They hadn't even talked about what they were doing or anything, he had no right to jump to a civil union.

But a part of him held on to the wonderful image his mind had conjured up. It was a beacon of hope for him and that hope is what kept him around when most would have left.

* * *

><p>By eight pm the guests had all left with the exception of House and Wilson. House had all but begged to leave over three hours ago but Wilson had insisted that they stay for the whole thing claiming that it was rude to leave before everyone else had the inclination to.<p>

Now House was incredibly grumpy and he wanted nothing more than to go home and sit on the couch, drink a beer, then fall asleep. He gave up on waiting for Wilson and went out to the car on his own.

Climbing into the driver's seat, House briefly wondered if he should be around to gently herd Wilson out to the car to make sure the injured man doesn't fall on a hidden patch of ice. His annoyed mind reminded him that Wilson was a big boy and didn't need someone mother henning him, injured though he may be, and that if Wilson should fall, House wouldn't be able to do more than to fall down with him.

None the less, the diagnostician released a silent breath of relief when Wilson arrived in the car safe and sound. A shrill ringing interrupted any comment House was about to make and Wilson automatically pulled out his phone.

"Hello," he had answered. Luckily Wilson's phone was loud enough for House to hear the entire conversation since it was pretty hard to get information out of Wilson after the fact.

"Hi James," an unfamiliar voice answered almost affectionately.

"Melissa how are you doing?" Wilson asked in his most caring oncologist voice.

"I'm good considering," Melissa replied evenly, "listen I just wanted to call and let you know that I've finally gotten things hashed out with Ashley, she had challenged almost every decision I had made with regards to the funeral and burial, and I have the information on the service."

"Oh, okay," Wilson responded and House knew he was a little surprised by the idea that he was just now receiving a call about SIJ's funeral and that the girlfriend would challenge anything.

Swiftly, House handed his friend a spare piece of paper, a receipt from a porn store, and watched with affectionate amusement as Wilson pulled out a pen from the inside pocket of his sports coat.

He listened quietly to the oncologist's soft "uh-huh's" and "okay's". He hadn't realized until now just how much he loved hearing Wilson's voice. Most of the time the familiar tone could be heard carrying a lecture quality or, more often than not, a sanctimonious note that House always resolved not to listen to but right now it held nothing but caring, something that he'd received from Wilson on many an occasion and had often batted it away with the fierce bite of a viper.

"Okay," Wilson said with a tone of finality effectively pulling House out of his thoughts, "Thanks for calling and letting me know Melissa. I'll see you in a few days."

"Don't expect me to go to Self Important Jerk's funeral," House automatically said after Wilson hung up.

Wilson let out a frustrated groan, "Don't worry. I know that asking you to go to the wedding today was asking a lot of you, I wouldn't want to push it."

"Oh it's not that," House snapped more than a little offended, "I just refuse to pay my respects to man that I actually had no respect for." He paused for a second while his quick mind thought then added, "I can't believe you're going. I would have thought that you have lost all respect for him to. I guess you don't have as much common sense as I gave you credit for."

"Yes it must be that I'm a complete moron," Wilson snapped almost fiercely, the sarcasm in his tone not getting lost in it, "either that or I'm going to support Tucker's family."

"You hardly knew his family," House scoffed, his temper slowly rising.

"Unlike you, I have more than one friend," Wilson reminded sharply, "Melissa and I have been friends for almost ten years."

"I've never heard you mention her."

"That's because every time we talk, it's usually about you or your case."

"Oh please," House rolled his eyes as he pulled up to the curb then turned to face Wilson.

"You think I'm being dramatic?" Wilson challenged. "The only reason you know about any of my ex wives is because I told you about them whether or not you wanted to hear it. If I hadn't done that you wouldn't know a damn thing about me except for the information you deduced when we met."

Angrily Wilson opened the car door then got out of the car. He crutched towards the loft with a passive aggressive grace. It always amazed House how Wilson could do almost everything passive aggressively, including smile.

Memories swirled through his mind as he sat in the quickly cooling car. He couldn't deny there was truth in Wilson's words even if they were said with an over dramatic air.

A shiver ran down his spine as his nerves registered the below freezing temperatures in the car and he decided to it was time to get inside.

He had just arrived through the door when soft sniffling reached his ears. The sarcastic reproof on his lips died instantly when he walked into Wilson's bedroom not to find him crying on the bed in a dramatic gesture but on the floor, crutches splayed carelessly about the sparse room, body curled in a protective ball and hands clutching his left thigh so tightly there was no circulation getting to them.

"Wilson," House called softly, stiffly and painfully kneeling down next to the fallen man, "Wilson what happened?"

But Wilson couldn't answer. He was lost in his own world of agony, the pain engulfing him like a swarm of angry hornets that were trying to drown him under water. Tears trickled down his cheeks, landing on the hardwood floors and soaking them.

House knew enough about pain to realize when a dose of anything by mouth was not only near impossible in this state but they wouldn't do a damn bit of good.

Regretfully he left Wilson and went into his room to grab the wooden chest that he keeps under his bed. He opened it then pulled out a syringe full of one dose of morphine before going as quickly as he could back to Wilson's room where the oncologist's breathing was beginning to sound ragged and too fast.

"Hang in there Wilson," he encouraged gently as he tied the tourniquet around Wilson's closest arm then expertly plunged the needled into the penetrable flesh then the vein. He waited somewhat impatiently for the drug to take effect, anxious from his friend to find some relief sooner rather than later.

His eyes roamed over Wilson's prone body, his mind rapidly trying to piece together what happened but coming up blank. As far as House could tell, the injured man was still mostly dressed. The only articles of clothes that were missing were his dress shirt and suit jacket which lay neatly on the bed above.

When Wilson's breathing eased and his body relaxed, House tried calling to him again. "Wilson," he said quietly, placing a hand on his friend's arm.

"House?" Wilson asked, his eyes out of focus more than usual.

"Yeah who else?"

"Right."

"Sorry about the Wizard of Oz effects," House apologized when he saw Wilson trying to bring everything into focus, "it's what happens with morphine."

Wilson's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he closed his eyes before slowly refocusing on House. "Why am I on morphine?" he slurred, his fight for consciousness getting harder with every passing second.

"Later," House answered noticing Wilson's trouble keeping his eyes open, "first let's get you into bed, what do you say?"

"Whatever you say Dorothy," Wilson said slurring so much that House could think he was wasted instead of high.

House got stiffly off the floor then bent down and grabbed Wilson outstretched hand. With the upper body strength that one gets when they use it to hold themselves up, House hauled Wilson upright, slipping quickly under his left arm to provide more support.

Wilson groaned as the movement made his stomach roll acidly but he managed to keep all contents remaining in it.

Next House carefully dragged Wilson's half limp form over to the bed where he unceremoniously dumped it on the bed. He was careful not to bang Wilson's bad leg against anything as he undressed the now asleep oncologist then positioned him on the bed where his leg was elevated on top of two pillows.

He watched Wilson's sleeping form for a moment before he sat down next to the injured leg and gently felt around it. While he didn't know what had happened, he wanted to make sure that no more damage had been done during the mysterious event.

If he really thought about it, it wasn't so mysterious. Obviously Wilson had fallen but what he didn't know what whether he had mis-stepped and tried to put weight on his damaged leg or whether he banged it on something while getting around.

Judging by the bump his hands were currently feeling and the winces coming from the sleeping oncologist, House would guess that he had banged the leg on something causing immeasurable pain.

He winced as his own leg pain flared in sympathy. He knew very well what that felt like and it made his heart ache to know that Wilson had experienced that kind of pain.

After gently releasing the leg, House stood up and limped heavily into the kitchen where he grabbed an ice pack. He was careful not to trip and fall over the crutches which still lay on the floor forgotten in all the excitement.

Deciding it was best to pick them up so that Wilson didn't have to do it, House placed the ice pack carefully on top of the oncologist's damaged calf then he used the hook of his cane to grab the fallen instruments and lifted.

House briefly checked on Wilson a second time before he exited the bedroom to leave his friend to his slumber while he camped out on the couch with a beer in his hand and a porn movie on.

If anyone asked it was because he wasn't tired but the truth was that he wanted to be able to be awake should Wilson need him again. In hindsight he should have just crawled into the bed with Wilson but instead he fell asleep on the comfortable leather couch, the moaning in the background the last thing he heard before drifting off into a dreamless slumber.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9:**

House woke the next day to the sounds of whimpering that tore at his heart. He immediately got off the couch, hissing as his thigh tortured him for it, and heavily limped into Wilson's bedroom.

He found the oncologist lying in bed stiff as a board. Tears were tracking their way down his face and his jaw was clenched so tight House could hear his friend's teeth grinding into nothing. His eyebrows were knit into one with lines of deep pain creasing his face and his fists were clenching the sheets beneath him so much as to turn them white with lack of blood.

Another whimper escaped through tightly closed lips and Wilson arched his back as an outlet for the pain.

House limped off to the bathroom where he knew Wilson had last left his pain medication then grabbed a dose and a half and a cup of water. He went back into the bedroom where he could tell Wilson was trying not to cry out in agony.

"Wilson," he called gently as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Mnnh," was Wilson's only answer. He didn't trust himself to open his mouth and do anything but yell. His leg was on fire, roasting in agony while being pierced with a red-hot poker and venom of burning heat wrapped around the limb with searing tendrils.

Tears continued streaming out of Wilson's tightly closed eyes, making House want to cry for him but he quickly stamped down on the feeling; it wouldn't help his friend if he suddenly started crying as well, in fact it would probably freak him out.

"Wilson I need you to open your mouth so you can take your pain meds," he instructed soothingly.

Wilson opened his eyes to look at House, noticing that his hand was ready and waiting to dump the pills into Wilson's mouth the second he opened it. Another wave of excruciating agony hit him and he arched his back then slammed his hand down on the mattress of the bed as he waited for it to calm down marginally.

House watched as Wilson rode through the strongest of the pain, his heart breaking for his hurting friend all the while. When Wilson reluctantly opened his mouth, the diagnostician automatically dumped the dose in then poured some water in as well.

Reflex took over and Wilson swallowed so he could breathe again. He could feel House's nimble fingers massaging the thigh of his hurting leg in an effort to help. If he hadn't been in inexplicable agony, the oncologist probably would have made some sort of joke about how much House was showing that he cared but at this precise moment, he didn't care. He welcomed the touch almost as much as he did the drugs.

When he thought he could speak again, Wilson opened his eyes to look at House who was not surprisingly staring at him, his cerulean blue eyes reflecting concern and anxiety that Wilson himself had shown many times over when their roles had been reversed.

"Thanks," he said. He didn't really know what to say honestly, he just wanted to help soothe his friend's worries as his own pain began to slowly recede.

House nodded his answer but kept massaging all the same. His hands needed some sort of distraction and he knew, thanks to both Cameron and Wilson, touch could help heal and soothe so a massage seemed like the next step. His long fingers kneaded the tense muscles in Wilson's thigh, patiently working out the knots. It was a good thing he was worried about Wilson otherwise he would be in trouble.

Deciding he needed to do something else, House looked around for an excuse to leave for a few minutes. His eyes fell upon the bag on the floor filled with melted ice cubes. Without explaining what he was doing, the diagnostician got up, grabbed the bed and scrambled out of the room as quickly as his own agonizing leg would let him.

He came back ten minutes later. He'd decided that it was time to take his own pain meds and do his morning business before he went back into the room so he could spend as much time as was needed with his friend. Normally he wouldn't even bother but he guessed that Wilson could use the company and if he was honest with himself he didn't want Wilson out of his sight.

"Brought you a fresh ice pack," he announced cheerily as he walked in and placed the item on top of the bandaged leg where the bruise had been.

Wilson attempted to sit up, grimacing and clenching his teeth when he moved his injured leg at the same time. "Thanks," he said before his brows furrowed in confusion, "what happened?"

"Well, you went hunting with Self Important Jerk and-"

"I know that, what I meant was what happened last night?" Wilson cut in, not really in the mood for House's sarcasm.

"Why don't you tell me? What do you remember?"

"Uhm, we went to Cuddy's wedding, I got a call from Melissa, we argued, I came inside and started getting undressed," Wilson summarized succinctly. His brows furrowed as he tried to remember the rest because he was sure there was more. It made his head ache to try and remember through the haze of pain medication but eventually it came to him and he blushed in embarrassment and frustration.

"I wasn't paying too much attention where I was going," _I was too mad, _he added silently though he knew he might as well have spoken it aloud, "and I smacked my leg against the chair."

"That's what I thought," House conceded, mentally kicking the chair though it wasn't the chair's fault in any way, sense or form.

"Thanks for helping me last night," Wilson whispered.

House furrowed his brows, "Did you think I'd just leave you on the floor in agony?"

"Of course not!" Wilson defended automatically. A very small part of him actually did think that but he knew that was a ridiculous thought and therefore set it aside easily. "I'm just grateful that I have you."

He winced at just how sappy his admission had sounded and waited for House's acidic comment, knowing it was coming as sure as the sun rose in the east and set in the west. He almost jumped when a tender hand brushed against his cheek.

"Me too," House admitted softly.

"_Okay where's the apocalypse?" _Wilson almost asked aloud. Instead he settled for nuzzling against the hand and closing his eyes in contentment. There was no way he was going to ruin this moment with sarcastic words, not for the world.

Through the numbness of medication and ice, pain spiked through his leg making him grimace. He felt the comforting hand still for a few seconds before it slid lightly down his face, coming to land on his arm where it began to massage in gentle strokes.

Once the pain had calmed, Wilson opened his eyes to look into House's worried ones and cleared his throat. "What time is it?"

House chuckled, only Wilson would want to know the time when he was still suffering from a lot of pain. He looked around to find the clock and almost started in shock, "It's almost noon."

"What?" Wilson asked shocked. "How long have you been up? Why didn't you wake me earlier? Have you eaten yet?"

"Wilson calm down," House demanded. "I woke up when I heard you whimpering and don't you dare apologize for that," he added sharply when he saw his friend's mouth open and his eyes turn apologetic, "you should have woken me up long before the pain had gotten that bad."

"Believe me, it wasn't that I didn't want to," Wilson answered heavily.

House nodded knowing exactly what Wilson meant. The oncologist had woken up in so much pain that he couldn't move for fear of making it worse. He cursed himself for not putting Wilson's pain meds on the bedside table before he went to bed last night. If he had Wilson would have been able to get some relief sooner.

"Are you hungry?" Wilson asked hoping to distract House from the direction he could see his thoughts were going.

"I could eat, you?"

"You could eat me?" Wilson smirked.

House returned the smirk, "I could, yes but not right now sweetheart I have a headache."

Wilson chuckled, "Let's get you something to eat."

"Uh-uh, you are staying right where you are," House announced firmly, planting his hand on Wilson's chest to still the oncologist's movements. "I'll go make some eggs."

"You're going to cook?" Wilson asked surprised.

House rolled his eyes, "Well we can't eat take out every day believe it or not and my cook is currently out of service."

Wilson smiled tiredly, "I could get used to that."

"Well don't, it's just until you're back on your feet," House grumbled as he walked out to the kitchen. He frowned as he realized it would be a year at least until his friend would be able to stand for any length of time. With a sigh he resigned himself to an extended period of KP. It would be a long year.

_~fin~_

* * *

><p><em><strong>I've decided to end it here. It's a short chapter but it's a good place I think. My muse for House fanfics has begun to wither, leaving a lot of stories unfinished - something that drives me crazy so I'm ending this story long before I had actually planned but I do intend on writing a sequel showing how things have gone for the pair during Wilson's recovery and his adventure to get back to his normal life. Thanks for sticking with me, I appreciate it!<strong>_


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